


to breathe easy for a while

by pirateygoodness



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: Sara learns that Nyssa’s hands can throw knives and treat wounds, but also that they’re capable of twisting Sara’s hair into the most incredible crown of braids, if Sara can hold still for long enough. 
She also learns that she likes Nyssa, a lot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a [fic meme](http://swashbucklery.tumblr.com/post/153268577153/send-me-two-or-more-characters-and-a-number-and) from Tumblr. Original prompt was, "I just want this."

Slowly, Nyssa starts to let Sara become part of her life on the ship. She doesn’t tell her much, but she does teach things. She teaches Sara how to assess for injuries. Sara learns how to do stitches, how to dress a wound neatly. 

She also learns things about Nyssa. She learns that Nyssa can - as far as Sara can tell - withstand the pain from cuts and bruises without blinking, but missing a cup of coffee in the morning makes her grouchy until well past noon. She learns that Nyssa’s hands can throw knives and treat wounds, but also that they’re capable of twisting Sara’s hair into the most incredible crown of braids, if Sara can hold still for long enough. 

She also learns that she likes Nyssa, a lot. She learns that she loves the whisper-soft touch of Nyssa’s fingertips against her scalp when she does her hair. She learns that Nyssa takes her coffee black, that she sleeps like the dead when given the chance but can go days without sleep if need be. She learns that even though she and Nyssa use the same shampoo, she prefers the smell of it in Nyssa’s hair. 

Tonight, they’re docked in a new city - maybe a new country, as far as Sara knows. Nyssa’s gone out on one of her usual excursions. ( _Work_ , she always tells Sara, matter-of-factly, as though it’s perfectly normal to go to work and come home with smears of someone else’s blood on her clothes.) Waiting up for her has become a pattern, and she’s gone through half of the books on Nyssa’s shelf over the past few week because of it. 

When Nyssa returns tonight, she does so with light footsteps outside the cabin door. It which tells Sara that things went well, and that she’s probably not hurt. She smiles when she sees Sara curled up on her bed, waiting. 

“How did work go?” Sara asks.

It sounds so domestic, when she says it like that. It almost lets her forget about the split knuckles, the bruised ribs, the other cuts and injuries she’s seen on Nyssa, after _work_. Nyssa smiles, as she always does, and begins stripping down. “It went well.”

Sara’s always fascinated by this ritual. She moves closer to the edge of the bed, angling for a better view. Nyssa keeps a knife visible at her hip, and she always removes that first, along with its belt and sheath. Next, she reaches into a drawer and brings out the roll she uses for storing her throwing knives, arranges it on the dresser. Sara watches as Nyssa slides two knives out of their hiding places inside each sleeve, and tucks them away. Then come the two at the small of her back, one from each thigh. After those are neatly filed away in their places, Nyssa reaches for the knives inside each boot. She rolls the knives up carefully, sets them aside. 

Once she’s disarmed, Nyssa is free to remove her cloak, her hood, her trousers, so that she’s down to underwear and a tank top. Some nights - like tonight - if it’s a little cooler, she’ll slide on a pair of shorts.

It’s not quite a routine. They haven’t known each other long enough for that. But Sara’s been here for this enough times that it’s approaching habit. She gestures to Nyssa, says, “Come here.” 

Nyssa obliges. She stands next to the bed, letting Sara rise up on her knees to run eyes and fingertips down Nyssa’s arms, across her belly, down her legs, looking for injuries. It’s as much for Sara’s benefit as it is for Nyssa’s, but they both pretend it’s a necessary service. 

Nyssa turns around, allowing Sara to check her back. She rolls her shoulders, and Sara tries not to stare too much at the shift of muscle beneath her skin, the _strength_ of her. It’s hard - it’s getting harder - to pretend that she’s not staring, every time she looks at Nyssa. To ignore the way that she’s thinking about Nyssa, more and more. 

She coughs, says softly, “All clear.” 

Nyssa turns back to face her, gives her this soft look that Sara can never quite get enough of. “Thank you,” she says. 

She runs a hand through her hair, trying to keep it from falling across her eyes, and sits on the bed next to Sara. From here, Sara’s in a better position to notice the way that her hair is ruffled from undressing, to notice how _pretty_ she is. The light shines across Nyssa’s face and catches the shape of her lips, the dusting of freckles across the arch of her cheekbones. She rests her hand on Sara’s knee, and Sara’s heart beats faster in reply. “I am going to try and rest, Sara.” 

Sara nods. “Yeah, okay.” 

She shifts, planning to stand up, assuming that she’s been dismissed. Before she can make it, Nyssa’s arm is on her wrist, urging her still. “You may -“ Nyssa says. She pauses, looks away, then looks back at Sara. She almost seems nervous. “It would be alright if you stayed. If you wish.” 

Sara turns that sentence over in her mind a few times. She wishes - she very much wishes - and feels it like an ache in her chest, in the way her heart races, in the way her mouth is suddenly dry. “Okay,” she manages to say. “Sure.” 

Sara stands to let Nyssa pull the sheets back. Nyssa slides into bed first, curling up with he back to the wall, leaving a space for Sara. It’s a tiny space, barely large enough for one, but Sara settles herself in the space available. Nyssa’s doing a surprisingly good job of making herself as small as possible, but even so, her legs are pressed against Sara’s thigh, and her body is so near that Sara can feel the warmth radiating from it. Her arm starts off curled against her chest, but after a while, Nyssa’s body relaxes and that arm starts to slide out across Sara’s belly.

Sara can’t help but notice how it feels. She can’t help but notice that Nyssa’s body feels surprisingly soft against her, or the weight of her arm against Sara’s belly. She’s acutely, almost painfully aware of Nyssa’s breathing, and the way that it starts to slow into the gentle rhythm of sleep. 

Sara doesn’t sleep. 

She was only a little tired before, but now that Nyssa’s body is pressed against her she’s absolutely wide awake. Her brain is incredibly aware of Nyssa’s body and the fact that her breasts are pressing against Sara’s arm. She doesn’t know when thinking about that kind of thing started to make her feel so _flustered_ , but it seems like it’s happening all the time when it comes to Nyssa. 

She gives it an hour - maybe less - before she tries to move. There’s not a lot of space, but there’s enough that Sara can create a little distance, roll over to maybe try and get some rest.

She does her best to ease away gracefully, but the movement causes Nyssa to stir. She sighs, tightening her hold around Sara’s waist and cuddling into her more deeply. She’s actually _nuzzling_ , her lips and nose pressed tight against Sara’s shoulder. Her breath tickles against Sara’s skin, little puffs of air that seem to radiate out until Sara feels like her whole body is on fire. Whatever her head says about whether or not Sara’s into girls, her body knows what it wants, and she can feel it start to react. 

Sara whimpers, frustrated and, well, _frustrated._

Nyssa sighs again and wakes more fully, raising her head. She’s frowning at Sara, and all Sara can think is that she’s so fucking cute like this. Nyssa, the girl who just fit eleven knives into a single outfit, but none of that matters right now. What matters is the way that she’s looking at Sara, sleepy-eyed and a little ruffled with sleep. 

Sara’s heart does a flip. 

“Sara,” she says, accent thicker from drowsiness. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sara says, but it comes out breathy, sort of tight. “It’s fine.”

Nyssa shakes her head again, scrubs her face with her hand and angles herself up on her forearm. It presses her hips even closer against Sara’s side. Sara does her best not to think about that too deeply. “What’s wrong?”

“I just -“ Sara starts. She turns toward Nyssa. They’re nose to nose, and Nyssa’s mouth looks pink and sweet, and suddenly she doesn’t have anything to say at all. 

She’s so focused on feeling self-conscious that it takes her a little while to notice that Nyssa’s just as speechless. She looks up. Their eyes meet, and Sara feels it like a jolt, the way Nyssa’s _looking_ at her and she knows what this means. She’s pretty sure she knows what this means. 

It takes her a few more seconds to work up the nerve to move her face forward. The distance between them is inches - maybe less - but closing it feels like an achievement. Nyssa’s mouth is warm, lips soft and when they finally kiss, it’s everything Sara didn’t know she wanted. 

Sara feels like she’s vibrating all over, skin humming with fluttery feelings. It’s just _so much_. She’s kissing Nyssa, and Nyssa’s kissing her back, and it’s so great and such a surprise. It’s been so long since Sara had something unexpected and good happen, that she almost can’t believe it’s real.

Nyssa’s lips part, and Sara takes the opportunity to kiss her more deeply, to flick her tongue out to taste Nyssa’s bottom lip. She tastes real, tastes like something that Sara can grab between her teeth. Nyssa sighs, and Sara’s mouth is on hers and it means she _feels_ it against her lips. 

Sara is the one who breaks away, and her breath’s coming fast and all she can think is that she did that, that they _kissed_ , that it actually happened. 

Nyssa licks her lips, then breaks into a smile. She’s positively beaming, looking right at Sara and it just makes her feel breathless in the best possible way. She feels giddy, like she did that one time at Tommy’s place, when she drank two too many glasses of champagne and ended up falling into the pool. 

In addition to being gorgeous, Nyssa looks very much awake. Her eyes have taken on an expression that Sara can only describe as _hungry_ , and it makes Sara feel brave. “I thought you were resting,” she says. 

Nyssa’s laugh comes from deep in her throat, so that it sounds almost like a purr. “Suddenly, I find that I am not tired.”

“Oh,” Sara says. _Oh._ She feels herself start to ache between her thighs, her body suddenly reminding her that it’s been ages since she even thought about sex, let alone had it. But suddenly, she’s warm and safe in Nyssa’s arms and she wants it, _bad._

“Look, I’ve never -“ Sara starts. She catches herself, stops. The look in Nyssa’s eyes says that she knows - of course she knows - and maybe the fact that this is a first for Sara isn’t important. “I just want this. Is that okay?” 

“Of course,” Nyssa says. “Of course.” 

Nyssa shifts her weight, and suddenly her face is above Sara’s. She’s got one arm on either side of Sara’s head, and a knee between Sara’s legs and somehow the sight of her overhead gets Sara going even more. She kisses Sara thoroughly, tender kisses across her mouth, her face, her throat. Slowly, she kisses across Sara’s neck, until she finds the spot that always _gets_ Sara, the one right below the angle of her jaw.

Sara feels like all her nerve endings are on fire, like her heart’s going to beat right out of her chest. Her hips rock down at the feel of Nyssa’s mouth, and suddenly her groin makes contact with Nyssa’s leg and it’s _great_. 

Nyssa keeps working at that spot, kissing and nipping until Sara’s sure that she’s left bruises. But it’s not like anyone will be around to notice it in the morning, and even if someone was, it feels too good right now for Sara to even care. 

She reaches up, grabbing at Nyssa’s top, sliding her hands along skin until she finds Nyssa’s breasts and Nyssa suddenly stops what she’s doing and makes this sound, pleasure and surprise all at once. 

Sara laughs. It’s just so satisfying, after weeks of watching Nyssa in perfect control of everything, to make her come a little bit undone. Nyssa’s mouth leaves her neck and Sara feels her bury her nose in Sara’s shoulder, embarrassed. When she lifts her head, her cheeks are pink, and she’s watching Sara with shy eyes. “I’ve never -“

“Oh,” Sara says. “Good. We can figure it out together.”

Nyssa pulls her into another kiss, twice as eager as her first, and now it’s Sara’s turn to respond with surprise. Sara can feel Nyssa’s weight shift on the bed, and then one of her hands is at Sara’s hip, fingertips brushing across bare skin. Slowly - _too_ slowly, Sara’s body tells her - she eases Sara’s top higher, sliding across skin and up to her breasts. Her touch is sure as she cups one side with her palm, drags her thumb across Sara’s nipple until Sara whimpers, rocks her hips down into Nyssa’s thigh. 

Slowly, Sara comes more undone, and Nyssa grows bolder. She replaces the hand at Sara’s breast with her mouth, figures out a way to rock her leg up in time with Sara’s hips grinding down. Nyssa’s good at this, and before long Sara is whimpering, rocking against her knee with more insistence. “Please,” she groans, and Nyssa pauses, looking up. “I need you to -“ Sara starts, stops. 

She knows exactly what she needs Nyssa to do, but somehow saying it out loud feels like too much. She takes Nyssa by the wrist, and guides her hand down until it’s resting on the fly of Sara’s jeans. Nyssa’s eyes go wide. 

She undoes Sara’s jeans with shaky hands, and Sara feels _all of it_ , every tentative brush of her fingertips, every shift of fabric. Nyssa pauses, hand hovering just above the waistband to Sara’s underwear. “Are you -“ Nyssa begins. 

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Sara says. She sounds far gone, but that’s because she _is_ , so worked up and she’s sure, she’s ready, she’s everything else Nyssa could possibly ask. 

Nyssa laughs at her, gently, as she cups Sara through her underwear. Sara hisses in delight, wriggles her hips. 

Nyssa walks her fingertips up the gusset of Sara’s underwear, little pressure points against her and it’s all Sara can do not to moan in delight. Eventually, Nyssa's fingers reach her waistband, then dive below. Her fingertips find Sara’s cunt, then slide in between her lips because she’s soaking wet and ready, _ready._

“Is this alright?” Nyssa whispers. It’s the first time Sara’s ever heard her sound unsure of anything, and she feels it, deep in her chest. 

“Mhhmm,” Sara mumbles. “So alright.”

Nyssa chuckles again, then slips her fingers back and forth, experimentally. Sara moans out loud, not quiet, _not_ subtle, and is rewarded with a hand across her mouth. “Quiet, lovely,” Nyssa murmurs, voice gentle. “Quiet.” 

Sara nods agreement, and Nyssa releases her mouth. The next time Nyssa touches her, she bites her lip hard to keep from crying out, whimpers as gently as she can. Nyssa’s fingers are clumsy at first, but Sara wants this so _much_ that it doesn’t really matter. It’s not long before she figures it out, finds the spot where Sara wants to be touched.

Her rhythm starts gentle, little circles that Sara grinds up against, half-desperate for more. It’s not long before her fingers are moving faster, and it’s good-good-good and then Sara is gone, sighing and clutching at Nyssa’s shoulders and coming against her. 

Sara comes down in a haze. She feels boneless, a little like she’s floating. She can’t _believe_ she’d forgotten how _awesome_ sex could be. There are little spots at the edge of her vision, and her tongue feels sort of heavy in her mouth and it’s great. It’s really fucking great. Something tickles her forehead, and she realizes that it’s Nyssa, her free hand stroking Sara’s hair. “Fuck,” Sara huffs, as articulately as she can manage. 

Nyssa laughs. She’s watching Sara with attentive eyes, and Sara doesn’t miss the way her pupils are blown wide, the intent in her gaze. She looks down the length of Nyssa and notices her breasts, nipples pebbled up and visible through her tank top. Sara has a sudden urge to kiss them. 

The angles are all wrong, though, and it’s a few moments before Nyssa takes her hand out of Sara’s pants, a few moments more before Sara’s in a position to speak. “Come here,” Sara says. 

Nyssa obeys. She works her way up Sara’s body, leaving kisses along her belly, her breasts, her throat. By the time she makes it back to Sara’s mouth, Sara’s grinning at her, at how all of this feels romantic and serious and fun at the same time. Nyssa hovers above Sara for a while, looking down. She’s beautiful like this, hair tumbling around her face and over her shoulders, tickling Sara’s cheeks. Sara reaches up to cup Nyssa’s jaw with her palm and Nyssa leans into the contact, eyes fluttering closed. 

Sara presses gently behind Nyssa’s jaw, urging her down, and Nyssa all but crashes into her mouth. This time, the kiss is eager, a little sloppy, like maybe Nyssa’s more eager than she’s letting on. Sara can work with that.

She’s not strong enough to flip them over - one of them wakes up early to do push-ups, and it’s definitely not Sara - so instead, she strokes at Nyssa’s hair between kisses, waiting to get her attention. When Nyssa breaks away for air, she murmurs, “Your turn.” 

Nyssa smiles and settles next to Sara on the bed. Now Sara has the space to roll over, to arrange herself with one leg between Nyssa’s and look down at her. Nyssa’s watching her closely, lower lip caught between her teeth.

As slowly as she can, Sara slides Nyssa’s tank top up, exposing her breasts. Seeing them is so - Sara’s never really thought about breasts before, not sexually, but suddenly she’s seeing Nyssa’s and she _gets it._ She takes in soft curves, the way the shape of them contrasts with the muscle of her arms, her belly. Sara notices the way her nipples are dark and pebbled up, the way Nyssa’s back is arching, gently, like she wants them kissed as badly as Sara wants to kiss them. 

Sara touches first, cupping soft flesh in her hands and feeling the weight of it, noticing the way that Nyssa arches a little further, sighs. She leans down and kisses along the surface of Nyssa’s chest, the undersides of her breasts. She tastes as much as she can, mouth exploring everywhere that it can find. She kisses, sucks gently, lets herself learn the places that make Nyssa gasp, the places that make her hips rock up into nowhere. 

She wants to touch Nyssa further, but it takes Sara a little while before she can work up the nerve to put her hand against the hem of Nyssa’s shorts. Nyssa sighs in anticipation, whimpers, “Sara.” Her voice is pleading. 

It makes Sara feel oddly powerful, gives her the encouragement she needs to touch Nyssa underneath her shorts. Her skin is warm, almost hot, and it gets hotter as Sara’s fingers slide lower, into her underwear. Nyssa feels so _nice,_ and when Sara’s fingertips finally find coarse hair and slippery, velvety heat she finds herself groaning at how good it feels just to touch. Nyssa responds with an answering sigh, hips jerking when Sara finds her clit. 

It’s tougher than Sara thought it would be, to figure out where and how Nyssa needs to be touched. It takes a few tries and Nyssa guiding Sara’s hand to the right spot, but once she gets it, Nyssa’s gasping under her, hips jerking against her hand. She’s so _wet_ , Sara’s fingers slip-sliding against her and Sara can’t get over how pretty she is, how good it feels to make Nyssa unravel like this. Nyssa’s whimpers start to hit a higher pitch, and suddenly she’s biting her lip and Sara feels Nyssa’s body flutter against her hand. Nyssa’s orgasm is the prettiest thing Sara’s ever seen; dark eyelashes stark against her cheeks as her eyes flutter closed and she gasps, arches up, expression frozen for a moment. 

Sara keeps touching until she’s sure it’s enough, until Nyssa reaches for her wrist again, easing it away. 

Nyssa’s arms are around her back, pulling her close, and Sara allows herself to be tugged into an embrace. She presses her nose into Nyssa’s chest, smelling her skin, feeling the warmth of her. If she angles her head the right way, ear against Nyssa’s chest, Sara can hear her heartbeat. 

“Sara,” Nyssa murmurs. Sara looks up, lets Nyssa stroke her hair, trace her thumb along the side of Sara’s jaw. “Sara. You are so lovely.” 

Sara feels herself blush, suddenly tongue-tied. Having Nyssa look at her like this makes her feel so much, shy and safe and cared for all at the same time. It’s been so long since Sara felt like this, she’d almost forgotten that she could “You too,” she whispers, twists a section of Nyssa’s hair around her finger. “You too.” 

They stay tangled together for a long while, rumpled and half-undone and holding each other close. This time, Sara falls asleep first, the sound of Nyssa’s heartbeat in her ear.


End file.
